Category Archives: Memoir

Love in the Dungeon, encore

Weather in the Tries:
Yaaaayyy!!! the days of the coming week will be high 40s and low 50s! WaaHoo! And the nights above freezing. Oh, be still my heart. Well, it can’t be all goodness, I suppose. We do have 3 days with rain on the agenda. Some desert this is turning out to be! I don’t mind the rain all that much, but my short legged friend doesn’t like it at all.

Love in the Dungeon, encore:
It must be the coming of Valentine’s Day, but I’ve been thinking of my days at Couch School in Portland, Oregon. Probably because I recently listened to a book, Lucky Supreme, that takes place in Portland, and the narrator pronounced Couch Street as Cowch Street. Uh, no. It really is Cooch Street. Anyhow, here is an encore read for you. Please enjoy it all over again for the first time.

Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard

Love in the Dungeon

–by Lenora Rain-Lee Good

In 1951 I was about to enter third grade when Mother announced we were moving. Again. This time to an apartment in Northwest Portland, Oregon, where I entered Couch School. I learned many things while at Couch, the first being to pronounce it ‘kootch’ not ‘cowtch’ – even though it was spelled like something to sit on–after all, we didn’t sit on the school; we sat in the school.

Couch School, built in 1914, was one of four elementary schools in Portland, Oregon to contain an official school-board-sanctioned dungeon in its basement—with an Olympic sized swimming pool, into which all students were forcedto descend for weekly swimming lessons. Water terrified me. I did not enjoy playing in water deeper than my ankles. The lifeguard, rather than instilling confidence, instilled Terror, with a capital ‘T.’ I remained terrified of both the water and the lifeguard, and refused to learn how to swim. People would walk on the moon before I would learn to swim! Had I been a gambler, you could have made book on that statement!

Summer came, school emptied, and Mother and I moved. Again. This time to a small apartment only two blocks from Couch, so I didn’t have to give up my friends. By summer’s end, every kid I knew looked forward to returning to school, and structure, and learning–even me. But I did not look forward to the swimming lessons.

Too soon, the dreaded day came. Once again, I had to descend the dark brown stairs to the dank and smelly dungeon. Once again, I must face the dreaded lifeguard and her insistence that I learn to swim. Barely holding back tears, I joined my eager classmates, descended the steps to the girl’s locker room, squirmed into my hideous flowered swimsuit, showered, and prepared to face the she-devil in the pool area.

To my delight, a new devil awaited my arrival. There, by the pool, stood Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard. In my young body hormones began to stir, albeit sluggishly. I gazed upon the young Apollo, and fell in love. If Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard had asked, I would have jumped into either end of the pool and walked the full length to emerge at the other end. Fortunately, he didn’t ask.

But he did ask me to learn to swim, and with great patience he taught, and I learned. I assume he taught my classmates, but don’t know that for a fact as I remained blissfully unaware of them. I saw and heard only my beloved, my first love, Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard.

As weeks passed, I discovered he was single. Now, this was a good news-bad news type of situation. Yes, Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard was single, but I was no dummy. I knew I faced years of growth before he would even consider marrying me. But, O Joy! Mother was single. I began to plot. How could I introduce Mother to Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard? Especially since Mother also feared the water.

Then, one day, my dearly beloved announced to the class he would teach a Thursday evening Beginning Swimming class for adults. The solution to my problem. Mother couldn’t swim.

I begged, I wheedled, I whined, and I even shed some tears, until Mother, more fearful of water than I, agreed to take the classes. Harvey Anderson, wise to the teasing ways of his young students, locked the doors so we couldn’t come in and laugh at our floundering parents. Therefore, I missed the long-anticipated meeting of Mother and Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard. How transparent my childish machinations must have been to those adults, as they tolerated my feeble attempts at matchmaking.

Mother did learn to swim, but unlike me, she never enjoyed it. Once I could swim, and knew Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard (I always think of him with full name and title. Yes, even today.) would save me should I need saving, I became a water child they had to run out of the pool at closing time.

To me, Mother had always been young and beautiful. To me, Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard was handsome and old. In reality, there were far more years between them, with Mother by far the eldest, than between Harvey and me. When romance between them failed to bloom, my heart broke. Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard would not be my dad, and he was way too old to be my boyfriend, and way too young to be her husband. I found solace in swimming and in visiting the library for more and ever more books.

Years later, Mother and I had many chuckles over this love lost. Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard moved from Couch, as did Mother and I. Mother re-married, I grew up. Mother grew old and died, and now I am also old, and lie alone in my bed at night surrounded by my beloved books, and wonder if Harvey Anderson, once a Lifeguard and a Heart Throb, ever thinks back to the time one of his students tried to marry him off to her mother and smiles. I hope he smiles.

∞

About this memoir: Harvey Anderson, Lifeguard was originally published in a now defunct blog under the title Days at Couch. I did track down Harvey Anderson to send him a copy only to discover he had died a couple years before I wrote it. Couch School is still in Portland, but is now an office building. I wonder if the pool is maintained and used or if it was filled in and is now used for additional office space? Wouldn’t you like to work in an office building with a bona fide dungeon in the basement? and a pool? I would. Hmmm, I wonder if there are ghosts? or dragons?

Photo of the Week:
Fibonacci Sequence, pattern by Carolina Oneto https://carolinaoneto.com This is easy enough for a beginner, it is 32” square.

From the Paws of the Big Chihuahua:
the ice is melting, and the snow is disappearing. the days are warmer but the wind is still cold. this dog still likes naps, especially when my human snuggles with me. the sun comes out from hiding more often now. my human says winter won’t last much longer. maybe two more months. like what does that mean? how long is a month. and she says this year is a leap year. do I have to leap? how far? when? why? as long as I don’t have to leap into the ducks pond…

Quote of the Week:

“Mathematics is the language of nature.” ~ Fibanocci

(https://csuitemind.com/quotes/mathematics-is-the-language-of-nature )

Bread and Soup

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Weather in the Tries: We are, I believe, in our cooling times. The weather this past week has been in the 80s and 70s, and coming up is more of the same, but more 70s than 80s. The nights are in the 50s. Sammy is much happier sleeping under the blanket now ;-)just about all of our days will be sunny, or partly so, with 40% chance of wetness falling on Thursday. Or only 40% of the Tries will get wet? Whatever.

Bread and Soup:

Favorite Daughter and I decided to go shopping at Al Basha Market last weekend, it’s our local Middle Eastern/Mediterranean Grocery, and carries such wonderful foods. Of course the store has the most wonderful of smells as you walk in—spices, coffees, teas, and the freezers are filled with all kinds of bread (none of them American), meats (halal), fish, and who knows what all? The guys who own it work there and are very helpful. I always try to buy at least one thing I’ve never had before, and the other day I came home with a jar of stuffed small egg plants. Yummm.

But, I digress. For whatever reason I got to wondering if we had a local Middle Eastern bakery, so looked it up on my favorite frenemy, Google. There is one in Kennewick, and it is literally right next door! So favorite daughter and I stopped there first just to see what they had. And what they had was marvelous—bread so fresh it was still warm! And all sorts of other goodies. The pistachio baklava is to die for! And I saw date things, and kunefe, which I’ve yet to try. Favorite Daughter liked hers—a lot. I finally tried the Kunefa! It is a marvelous, wonderful cheesy delight. They make theirs with sweet cheese, and a shredded phyllo dough that I understand is slightly different than our phyllo dough. Oh my oh my! Auntie Lenora gained 5 pounds yesterday, yes, it’s that good, stop and have some. The happiest 5 pounds you’ll ever wear.

Mr Al-Hayyawi putting samoon dough on the ‘record’ and his helper removing it

For me, the hit of the show is the samoon, an Iraqi bread. Unfortunately, I could probably live off bread, and having Somer Bakery so close, an easy and way too short walk, may prove to be more of a temptation than I can handle. (Somer means Civilization, and I am for sure positive they will civilize me!) The single breads cost a dollar, or $4.95 for a bag of five. Samoon is a pocket bread, like pita, but nothing like the pita from your friendly grocery store. The bread is thicker, about like a slice of our bread, and has a marvelous taste and texture. So far, I’ve had mine with olive oil and za’atar (thyme, salt, and sesame seed), with the stuffed eggplant, with scrambled eggs, peanut butter, onion jam, butter, and just plain. (I can see my friend who lived in Palestine for several years and was married to a Palestinian for 55 years shuddering and shaking her head in disbelief at how I have desecrated the almost holy bread with things I shouldn’t. Maybe she won’t read that part of the paragraph 😉 (I hope we’ll still be friends.;-) (I also like olive oil and za’atar and chipotle powder on my popcorn. She just knows I’ll pay for that eventually 😉

The oven he uses is a thing of beauty—and magic. It looks kind of like a large record turning on the player at about perfect number of rpm that produce breads instead of music. Well, the bread is a symphony for your tastebuds, so music it makes. Mr. Al-Hayyawi puts the dough on it as it turns, and when it comes around again after passing through the heated part (maybe he has tamed some small dragons? or djinn?), it’s baked and nicely browned. And also puffed up. I swear, I can gain wait just inhaling the perfume of fresh baked bread!

They also make pies—pizza-like pies. Their pies have several different toppings—ground beef, za’atar, cheese, spinach, and all sorts of wonderful goodnesses. They are wonderful. They also have a more traditional pizza, but why would anyone want that when they could have the Iraqi pie?

The pie menu. I’ve had the Lahm bi ajeen and the Manaeesh Zatar, both are delightful. –photo by Sonja Smith

Since I like to shop local when I can, and put money back into my local economy, and prefer locally owned and operated, when possible, I know I will be putting a fair share in the new Somer Bakery, 5601 W Clearwater Ave, Unit 111, Kennewick WA 99336. They are wheelchair accessible, have free wi-fi, accept plastic, have contactless payments, and even use Apple Pay. Hours during the week are 7.00-7.00. Weekend hours are a little shorter.

There are tables and chairs, so you may sit and eat, converse with a friend, (and dare I say that everyone in there is a friend waiting to be introduced), read a book, drink coffee or tea. If I was a bona fide food critic, I would give Somer’s 5 out of 5 stars. But since I’m just a wannabe blogger, and I make my own rules, they get 10 out of 5 stars. Don’t ask me how I do that, I just do.

Since I know a lot of my readers don’t live close enough to the Tries to visit, try the next best thing—see if you’re fortunate to have a Middle Eastern Bakery in your town, and if so, check them out. In the meantime, if you’re heading this way to check out the wineries, etc., plan a stop at Somer’s bakery. Everything goes better with good bread. It’s worth the drive. Honest. Trust me. I understand that in many areas of the Middle East, one can take their bread dough to the baker and he will bake it, then you return to pick it up.

A link crossed my screen the other day from Cooking Professionally, with a recipe for Football Soup. Of course, I had to check it out. I was interested in whether they used brand spanking new footballs, and if so, which brand (or does it matter?), how many and what part, or if they used well-kicked footballs for tenderness. And do we use American footballs or European footballs. Are they cooked and seasoned the same? Of course, I had to check the recipe, because to be honest, footballs in my soup just doesn’t sound like anything I really want to try, though it is a novel way to dispose of them. Now, though, I’m curious if the people who posted the recipe could be sued for lying? There is no football/soccer ball listed in the ingredients. Just the same, I’ll stick to nail soup or stone soup, thank you very much.

In the last few days, recipes for Fairy Bread, Cemetery Cake, and Teacher’s Pet Casserole have all come across my screen. Now, I know there are those who claim fairies don’t exist, but obviously they do exist or there wouldn’t be a recipe calling for them. I mean, how could anyone make bread out of Tinker Bell and her siblings? I truly do not understand how anyone can make bread out of Fairies, cake out of Cemeteries, even assuming they just use the flowers, and not the bones, but making a casserole out of pets is too much—well, possibly if one’s pet is an alligator, but then why ruin it in a casserole when ‘gator bites are so delicious? Oh, wait. Maybe said teacher uses the student who is her pet? Oh, no. Surely not. No, it must be the guinea pig? Or???

Photos of the Week: What? You want MORE photos? Oh, alright…

My first ever samoon with some extra virgin olive oil and some zatar. There truly isn’t a better way to eat bread, but there are some different ways, which are very good, but olive oil and zatar are truly hard to beat.

Books: Remember, if I finish a book, I review and post it to http://lenoragood.blogspot.com

I’m still reading reading Brotherhood of the Wheel, by R. S. Belcher. I try to read at least one chapter a night. Sometimes, I don’t make it 😉

Earworms:

Taqsim Arabic oud music

Best of Iraqi oud Nasser Shama I can listen to this all day!

And there it is. This week’s Coffee Break Escape! Cooler nights, cooler days, everyone seems happier. And Housemate Dan and I didn’t turn the a/c on once this summer, using open windows and fans. Even Sammy Brave Dog seems happier.

25,550+ Days!!!

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25,550 Days!!!

Weather in the Tries:

Our temps are all down in the 80s & high 70s. Which is wonderful, but we have smoke, which is not, I can feel it, but will hunt down my masks and filters.

25,550+ Days!!!

2 June 1953. It must have been one of the last days of the school year, I was ten years old, so probably fifth grade? Maybe fourth, I don’t remember, but I do remember the school had a black and white television, and just the size for a moderate blue collar home to have, and they placed it on the stage in the auditorium, and each class came in for an hour or two, to watch whatever portion of the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II their room was assigned. It was broadcast live all the way from London to Portland, Oregon. The picture was black and white (I already said that, didn’t I?) and so much snow it looked more like a blizzard in the Arctic than inside of a cathedral. My class was in the auditorium for the actual Coronation. I seriously doubt I was so taken with the history as I was with the television.

As I grew, I began to be a bit more aware of the Royals, and the history I watched as a kid. I never had the complete fascination with the Royal Family as some of my American compatriots have, but I’ve found them interesting from time to time. And now that the Queen has actually died (I thought she’d go one forever), I find it utterly amazing she was on the job for seventy years, 25,550 days. Actually, she was employed in the same job longer than that, I didn’t figure in leap years. She was Queen. Was she ever Mummy or Auntie, Grandmum, was she ever invited girl’s night out, or to a friend’s house for an R-rated movie and a beer? Did she ever see Shirley Valentine? Did she laugh? Did she wish she could leave like her uncle? Like Shirley?

I was in school when she became Queen, and I grew, got married, divorced, put time in the military, remarried, had two kids, divorced, worked a job until I could retire, then started working on my dream of becoming a writer. And all that time, she was Queen. To my knowledge, she never complained about it, she knew her job, and though she may not have asked for it, she knew what it was, and she knew had an obligation to the people, the crown, and I’m sure, to herself.

For 25,550 days she was, at least publicly, unflappable. And while she was Queen, she was steadfast, and always, always, proper. It must have broken her heart when Andrew’s friendship with Jeffery Epstein became known, as it must have also broken her heart when Diana and Fergie both divorced her sons. And Anne, Princess Royal also divorced her husbands. It looks like Prince Edward, Earl of Wessex is still married to his first wife, Sophie Rhys-Jones.

Gads, I barely made it through my job long enough to retire, I don’t know how I would have handled being Queen of some country. Probably not well, and certainly not with the panache Elizabeth II presented the world.

It will be interesting to see how Charles III handles the job. Will he stay until he dies? Will he bring William in as an assistant to the king? It seems like an awful thing to saddle a young person with, I hope Charles spends a few years teaching William what he needs to know. But then, maybe Grandma has been doing that right along.

I have a little empathy for both Charles and William. They were raised to succeed in that job, in a way, they were raised like girls—be sweet, don’t argue, never show you’re more intelligent than a boy, learn to cook, sew, be careful how you dress, play a musical instrument, learn to be a housewife and servant to your husband, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Photos of the Week:

These are the man-made lakes/ponds where we live. I think one reason I like them so much is they remind me of the bayous and swamplands of the Southlands. Alas, gators couldn’t live here. They’d like the summers, but not, I’m sure, the winters. Just about all the others wildlife could live here. Well, birds, and squirrel sized things, but they’d be considered invasive, but a gal can dream, can’t she?

Books: Remember, if I finish a book, I review and post it to http://lenoragood.blogspot.com

I have started Brotherhood of the Wheel, by R. S. Belcher. Not very far into it, but so far, it’s pretty good. Got a little gruesome at the beginning, but then I remembered Golgotha did, too, so I kept reading and the next chapter equaled out quite nicely.

Earworms:

And Another One Bites the Dust

We Will Rock You

The Love of My Life

Hey, you knew I couldn’t pass up on Queen music and quotes.

Quotes from Freddie Mercury: (Farrokh Bulsara, iconic singer with a 4-Octave range! And, of course, founder and frontman of Britain’s other beloved Queen.)

“I want to lead the Victorian life, surrounded by exquisite clutter.”

“I’m hopeless with money; I simply spend what I’ve got.”

“You can be anything you want to be, just turn yourself into anything you think that you could ever be.”

And so a week has passed and the world continues to turn. The nights and days are cooling, and once again Paradise and Kennewick become synonymous. Except the smoke is moving in. Some of the masks work really well to keep the smoke out.

How My Brain (or at least what’s left of it) Works

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Weather in the Tries:

It gonna be hot, today and tomorrow 96, 99. Then up to triple digits until next Monday. Where I will be is gonna be in the 80s. Nights down as low as 55, mostly in 60s. You just have NO IDEA how happy I am knowing that Climate Change is a hoax. That keeps me mighty cool.

How My Brain (or at least what’s left of it) Works:

Okay, I really don’t know how it works, I’m just grateful it still does. Well, it sorta works. I forget words now and then, but since I bought a Bling-y phone cover, I haven’t lost my phone.

I also bought a new headset with mic a while back. It’s really kinda neat. For sure it’s more comfortable than the one I’d been using. It also cost more. Noticeably more. And it comes in colors (mine is lilac and cost a dollar less than Housemate’s default black one). It’s a gamer’s headset. The only game I play on my computer is solitaire. The sound effects are of cards being shuffled, dealt, etc. Certainly nothing requiring such a headset. It is fun hearing commercials in stereo though as the music comes in one ear and goes out the other. It’s also wireless. When I’m in a zoom gathering, I can get up to get more coffee and not miss anything (unless I nuke it, then the headset goes off until the nuker goes off). And it has an on/off button.

There are four notes that go up for on and down for off. And that’s what made me remember my Auntie Marie’s old Chinese Myna Bird, Mac. Everyone in the family would talk to Mac, and we would give him the same four notes, A, B, C, D going from low to high, and he would repeat it. Until my cousin’s husband gave him the same notes. Mac would look at Husband and say the same notes backwards, D, C, B, A. We never did figure that one out. Until that old bird died, he never slipped up and repeated it “correctly” nor did anyone else get the same reverse treatment.

I tried one time and gave him D, C, B, A. He looked at me, then admonished me that it was A, B, C, D. You have not lived until you’ve been admonished by a Chinese Myna Bird.

For his sleep at night, Auntie Marie would put a paper lunch sack in his cage and Mac would go into the bag, tuck his head under a wing, and sleep. All night. Unless he woke. Auntie Marie woke one night and heard Cousin sewing out in the other room where Mac lived, but she was doing it in the dark. Auntie Marie got up to tell Cousin to turn on the light, she needed more than the sewing machine light. She went out into the room, and no one was at the machine. Mac had awakened, and was apparently bored, so thought he’d “sew” himself a new outfit.

‘They” say smell is one of the best triggers to bring up memories, but in this case, it’s four notes on my gamer’s headset.

Restaurant Hack:

One of my favorite sandwiches that I only eat in restaurants, never make my own, is a good Reuben, on grilled rye bread. Alas, we seem only able to convince local restaurants to use the marbled rye bread instead of a good black rye. If they can make a good Reuben with the marbled stuff, you know it’s good. But then, Cook ruins it by placing the hot sandwich on the plate so the bottom slice of bread steams and gets soggy. I always ask for fries as my side, and I ask the waitperson to please ask Cook to put the sandwich on top of the fries. Of course, then I have to explain the why of it—when the sandwich goes on the fries, it has air under it as well as heat, and doesn’t get soggy. So, there you go. If you order a grilled sandwich in a restaurant, ask for it to be placed on top of your fries. If you can afford the restaurant and really wanted a side salad, order it, you can afford it. You don’t have to eat the fries. The fries are there for your sandwich. Try it, you’ll like it. Unless, of course, you like soggy bread on your grilled sandwiches.

The reason I only eat Reubens in restaurants and not at home is they are treats. If I make them at home, they are no longer a treat. I also don’t cook lobster at home for the same reason. Going to a restaurant is a treat and I never order anything I can make at home. I also find myself not ordering salads all that much anymore either. That’s because Housemate makes killer salads, why would I pay for lesser eats?

Photos of the Week:

Books: Remember, if I finish a book, I review and post it to http://lenoragood.blogspot.com

I finished Six Gun Tarot by R. S. Belcher. Oh, saddle up, Buckaroo, it’s a ride and a half. Read my review.

Earworms:

In a real western mood, thanks to Mr. Belcher. Check out some of these oldies.

Roy Rogers (remember him?) & Sons of the Pioneers, Tumbling Tumbleweeds

Sons of the Pioneers, Ghost Riders In the Sky

I remember those songs from when I was an itty bitty kidlet—my folks were still together and we lived in Klamath Falls, Oregon

Quotes from the Old West:

“Never miss a good chance to shut up.” —Judge Roy Bean

“Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.” —Unknown

“Always drink upstream from the herd.”—Will Rogers

I will probably be a wee bit late next week. I’m going to be on the road coming home Monday, so I’ll do the best I can, but it might even be Tuesday before Monday’s gets posted. Patience, Grasshopper!

Sammy is thrilled. I’m leaving him with Housemate. Housemate spoils him rotten. Does he get water in his kibble dish like a normal dog? No. He gets organic chicken stock! And special treats made just for him. I won’t worry, though, unless he starts eating salads. If he and I have to fight over Housemate’s salads, there’s gonna be a come to the table meeting!

Have a great week. And stay cool.

On Writing

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Weather in the Tries:

Well, Tuesday was supposed to be cooler, I guess if you consider 102 cooler than the todays 106, then yes, it will be cooler (I write/schedule this on Sunday). If my phone isn’t telling tall tales, we will be triple digit for 3 days, then high 90s for three days, then back to triple digit. It would be considerably more bearable if we could get nights down to low 60s or lower. Oh, well, this is the desert, and better here with far less humidity than over on the Dark Side of the Cascades. They are really miserable over there.

On Writing:

Received an email from ProWritingAid on Tuesday with the title: Does Good Gramar Make You More Sexy? ProWritingAid is an app that can help anyone become a better writer, or so they say. In the meantime, I had to chuckle at some of the results.

Apparently, men say that good grammar is important, then swipe their dating app for physical attributes. However, younger women are “31% more likely to choose well-written profiles” over ones filled with grammatical mistrakes. But the one that got me was that Americans seem to care more about good grammar than Brits. This surprised them?? Obviously, they never read Eats, Shoots & Leaves that was written a few years ago by a Brit.

Admittedly, grammar is not my strong suit, but I also don’t claim to be a grammarian. I tried, but could not read what should have been Eats, Shoots, & Leaves. The one thing I understand, at least most of the time, is the Oxford comma. It serves a vital function. And, besides, it’s cute.

However, back to the ProWritingAid’s surprise about American’s being more caring about grammar than Brits, I remembered something from my time in the military and being stationed in Germany. Many of the GI’s were able to wrangle assignments to the University of Heidelberg. Because they were considered foreign students (Brit or Ami) they had to take and pass an English test—in a German University. Go figure. All the guys gathered for their test, and much hilarity ensued with one group teasing the other about not speaking “real” English but speaking American. So, the forty or so guys filed into the testing room, took their test and re-assembled in the hall waiting for their scores. To a man (no women were in this group) all the Americans passed with high scores, and all the British flunked and had to take remedial English to qualify. Apparently, at that time, the English saw no reason to teach English to those born there and growing up using the language. I don’t know if anything has changed or not, but I assume (silly me) that it’s not, as they were surprised at the outcome.

I spent some time on dating apps in years gone by, and I found good grammar a turn-on v. bad grammar. I had never given it any thought, really, as to why, until now. At some level bad grammar told me he probably had lower self-esteem, a younger sense of humor (think 5^th grade potty humor), possibly be more needy and looking for mama, probably preferred sports to good books—if he read at all, and would have more limited conversation skills. Now, according to this article, women with good grammar were penalized more. Ya know what? That’s probably okay. An intelligent woman wants a partner in a relationship, not a boy to raise, especially if she’s of an age and has already raised her children.

ProWritingAid is a for-profit app, I do not use it, but do receive their emails. If you are looking for a writing app to help you, check it out. read the fine print, and then draw your own conclusion. And if anyone cares, my title today is On Writing. That is also the title of an excellent “How to Write” book by Stephen King. It’s okay. One may not copyright a title.

One more thing…Housemate sent this to me. He found it in a book online, and thought I’d like it. He was correct, and I’m sharing it with you for the same reason, I think you’ll like it. One of those things that we probably all know at some level but have not consciously cogitated. From The Elements of Eloquence: How to Turn the Perfect English Phrase. Adjectives, writes the author, professional stickler Mark Forsyth, “absolutely have to be in this order: opinion-size-age-shape-colour-origin-material-purpose Noun. So you can have a lovely little old rectangular green French silver whittling knife. But if you mess with that order in the slightest you’ll sound like a maniac.”

Poem-a-Day. It’s no secret I love poetry—reading it, writing it, living it. I subscribe to at least two Poems-a-Day, and one I get on Mondays only. The one that came on 27 Jul, Why Do You Love the Poem? —by Charles Bernstein, is one of the best I’ve read in a while. I use repetition, both in my poetry and in my prose, though not so much there. I’m a firm believer that when used to good effect, it’s worth the while. Give this poem a minute of your time. Even if you don’t love poetry. (Stretch yourself now and again—it’s good for you.;-)

Photos of the Week:

One of our more melodic residents enjoying the sprinkler.

I got a new phone cover. the sides are encrusted with wee diamonds (glass) and the back is dynamic with the sparklie’s moving. Originally purchased for fun, but all the bling sure makes it easier to find my phone!

Books: Remember, if I finish a book, I review and post it to http://lenoragood.blogspot.com

I’ve started a couple of books. One is the fourth in a series, and I became intrigued enough to buy Volumes 1, 2, & 3 and put 4 away until I get the others. Not sure exactly what the genre is, western, horror, fun??? Then I started another urban fantasy. And then along came Jones, slow walking—sorry, I got carried away for a few seconds. I decided it’s time to haul out some novels I’ve written, and go through them again to polish as much as possible, then see if I can interest an agent and or publisher. If those count as books read, and read again, and yet again…My Adventures as Brother Rat and Forgotten Daughter. Does it count that I need to read them cover to cover to make changes? Those of you who have read any of my novels as a reader, I would appreciate knowing which novel you read, and if you had problems with the names.

Earworms:

Years ago, waaaaaay back in my own ancient history, Folk Music was the big thing in music. I loved it. I loved Joni Mitchell. Then I wandered away from folk music to rock n roll, blues, classical, whatever. At some point I remember that Ms. Mitchell had some health problems and alas, she dropped off my radar. Well, the other day, someone sent me an NPR link about the Newport Folk Festival concert where Joni Mitchell made a surprise appearance and stole the show. Her voice is deeper, but she’s still got what it takes and then some!!! Check her out. Read the article. Watch all the videos! Joni Mitchell, entertainer extraordinaire!!

Just Like this Train

Both Sides Now with Brandi Carlile (shall I admit this is one of my “I’m gonna cry now” songs? Naw, I don’t think you need to know that do you?)

Summertime

Circle Game

Quotes from Joni Mitchel courtesy of Inspiring Quotes:

“All my battles were with male egos. I’m just looking for equality, not to dominate. But I want to be able to control my vision.” —Joni Mitchell

“I see music as fluid architecture.” —Joni Mitchell

“I learned a woman is never an old woman.” —Joni Mitchell

I think the Brave Dog will be happy when this heat dome dissipates. The sidewalk doesn’t seem to get too hot, but the driveway does, and the mid-late afternoon walks are of necessity, short, and usually in our small yard. The early morning walk is usually the only ‘long’ one of the day right now.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I hereby present…

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Weather in the Tries:

Oh, lord luv a duck! The 10-day forecast shows Friday at 112F. We are building a high-pressure ridge that will last a while. Of course, that’s a few days out, it can, and probably will change, several times betwixt now and then. Yep, it just changed to 113! At those temps, one or two more or less ain’t gonna feel any different. Gotta get our ducks and geese in sync and have them flap their wings!! No, not ours, the ones in Beijing and Seoul … (where’s that butterfly when we need him?)

Ladies and Gentlemen, I Hereby Present…(drum roll please)

A gen-u-ine American Prodigy, Miss Alena Analeigh Wicker, 13 years old and on her way to Medical School. Not in five years, but now. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zaQgbACc1E

According to the article on MedPageToday she is “more than 10 years younger than the average incoming medical student,”

She claims, in the article that she is “still a normal 13-year-old” and I say no, she’s not. Being where she is at her age takes more than time management skills, or good study habits. It takes drive, intelligence, and a family that backs her. She has also started an organization to provide “opportunities to girls of color who are interested in exploring careers in science, technology, engineering, and math.” She was 11 or 12 when she did that.

In her spare time (yes, she apparently has spare time) she plays soccer, and participates in track and field.

In reading the comments, well, many of them, on the article, I didn’t read any about research—that doesn’t mean they weren’t there, it means I didn’t see/read them. My guess is she will go straight into research, rather than practice. Maybe if/when she tires of research, she will have the life experiences she will need for clinical work. Should she ever tire of research.

I hope you’ll go to the page and read the article about her, and maybe at least some of the comments. And Huzzahs!!! to Ms. Alena Analeigh Wicker and her parents!!!

My trip to the Dark Side was wonderful. It was warm but not hot, cool enough to be comfortable. It was good to see my friends again. I will be going back over in mid-August for a while.

A friend offered her yard to dry my quilt, so I will coordinate with her and treat my quilt and get it to her house to lay on the grass. First, I need to get stuff unpacked and put away, and get the puppy all the loves n hugs he missed during my absence.

It surely is good to be home, but I already miss my friends. I did make it home in time to watch the last Hearing of the January 6 committee. I can hardly wait until September when the next ones will be held.

Photos of the Week:

These babies are maybe a week old, and they scoot around the pond so fast a couple of times they almost walked on the water. We call the babies “motorboats” for the way they scoot.

This duck is ‘dabbling’ and has more fun than all the others. Most of them use their feet to maintain balance, this one seems to like splashing and having fun. I’m not sure why the pic is so small.

Books: Remember, if I finish a book, I review and post it to http://lenoragood.blogspot.com

I have a few new reviews posted—four, actually. I am reading a lot more fiction of late, which normally goes faster than nonfiction. Finished A Trifle Dead and totally loved it. Brain Candy for sure, but hey, we need brain candy now and then. Indeed, all four books I have posted reviews of since last we spoke, are brain candy—Kill Three Birds is a marvelous book in a new world. Wow! and The House at Mermaid’s Cove and Secrets of Willow House, are both fun, feel-good type books. If you like Maeve Binchy’s books, check out the last two.

Earworms:

Wichita Lineman, by Glen Campbell

Galveston, by Glen Campbell

By the I get to Phoenix, by Glen Campbell

Something about the drive home that made me wish I’d had some Glen Campbell to keep me company. Fortunately, the sun was mostly behind me (I try to make my trips to take advantage of that. No fun driving with the sun in my eyes) maybe it was seeing the lineman up on a pole that made me feel some nostalgic for a lineman I used to know, and Glen Campbell. Anyhow, enjoy.

Quotes from Glen Campbell

“There’s no pillow as soft as a clear conscience.” —Glen Campbell

“I’ve laughed, and I’ve cried. Laughing has got it over crying.” —Glen Campbell

“I gave John Wayne the push he needed to get that Oscar.” —Glen Campbell

The Brave Dog was some glad to see me. I was walking down to the apt. when he was leading Dan out for a walk. Took him a minute to realize that was me. He didn’t want to go walking with Dan right then, he wanted me to sit and snuggle. That sounded pretty good to me 😉

NOT a Rant ;-)

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Weather in the Tries:

Aw shucks, what can I say? It’s gonna be some warm with more sun than clouds mostly in the 90s & up. It’s okay, unless it gets too humid. Come on down….

Not a Rant:

I truly do appreciate y’all allowing me my now and then rant, but ya know what? They are somewhat exhausting to write. Hope they aren’t too hard on you to read.

So, when I lived in ABQ, I put a quilt top together, and pieced the backing. Then, I moved back here, so packed it. The other day, I decided to dig it out of Shed 54 (my storage unit) and bring it home to finish. I found it, brought it home, and unfolded it to iron and butter my butt and call me a biscuit! Not only was the top pinned to the back (no batting in the ‘sandwich’ as this is a summer quilt) but I’d started quilting, and as luck would have it, I still had the same thread. I set my machine up and started quilting. Now, when I pin a quilt together, I use small curved stainless-steel pins, and I seldom fasten them, then as I quilt, I remove them. Wow. I was sore for several days from patting my back at how smart I was to have it already to go.

Yeah. Right. I got the first 3 or 4 rows quilted, and then ran into a rusted pin. Not only was the pin rusted, it was rusted to the fabric. Draw something to scale that is 65” on top and bottom, and 91” on the sides. Every five inches horizontal and vertical, put a pencil dot. Now, just for grins, go in and randomly erase any 20-25 dots you want. Yeah, what’s left are the rust zits on my quilt.

Fortunately, my ex-neighbors in Florida worked in a hospital and had access to the salespersons, and got me a good, metal forceps. They used theirs for joints, I use mine to pull the quilting needle when it’s got too much fabric on it. Or, if the rusted pin has melded with the fabric, I use it to pull the pin out. So not only does my quilt have rust zits all over it, there are also some wee teensy holes.

I have the bestest families—but you already know that—both of blood and of choice, and I’ve got cousins and sisters of choice who quilt and I put the word out, and they in turn put the word out—how does one get rust out of fabric??

One does NOT use bleach, unless one has Stop Bleach (Sodium Thiosulfate) at hand. I don’t. But several people suggested white vinegar and sunshine. Of course, they weren’t thinking of a huge quilt, and their directions read almost like Martha Steward wrote them. Lay the fabric on a clean, old, folded towel, pour a bit of vinegar on the spot, let set a minute or so, blot with a clean cloth and place fabric in the sunshine to dry. The combination of white vinegar and sunlight should cause the rust spots to fade. I can’t deal with the pouring of the vinegar on each and every zit on the quilt let alone using something to politely dab it on—I’m going to buy a gallon of it, put the quilt in a tub, add vinegar, and agitate every so often. Alas, I have to do this at someone else’s home because though I’ve got the sun (see weather above) I don’t have the space to lay the quilt out. Unless I float it on the pond, and I think that would upset the ducks. The geese would just walk on it. And the turtle? Who knows what she’d do?

Seriously, there is no place big enough to lay it out that has that much sun. We have a lot of trees, so though we get sun, it’s spotty. A couple hours here, a couple hours there…and we have ducks, geese, turtles, frogs, dogs, and kids. For the most part, the dogs are leashed.

I’m going to visit friends this next week, and though they live on the Dark Side of the mountains, they may actually get sun for an hour or two (snicker/snort), and they do have a couple of yards big enough, I hope, to lay the quilt out, if not on the grass, on the bushes. So, perhaps, I’ll have a ‘new’ quilt next week. Summer quilts are nice on cool nights when a sheet isn’t enough, and a regular quilt with a filling of some sort is too much. They were/are used a lot in the South in the summers, hence the name.

Speaking of turtles… a few days ago was the first I knew we had any in the pond, and the ladies who told me said it was pretty big, maybe 8” wide by 10” long (shell size guestimate), they had found it in the road and put it back in the pond. I got ready to run a couple errands on Thursday about noon, and there was a huge turtle in our yard. She had dug a hole and was laying eggs, I stood ‘guard’ so no one would pick her up and put her back in the pond—and one gal came by, saw her, and reached for her before I could stop her and ask her to leave her alone. When I explained why, she stopped, and looked, and allowed as how it was pretty neat. I waited a bit longer, and she covered the nest in fact it’s pretty hard to see. I marked it with a big rock next to it, not on top, until facilities can come by and paint around it, or something. Don’t think the riding mower will do the eggs any good, but anyhow, I have pictures and one video of mama turtle laying eggs and covering nest. She then started heading someplace not safe for her, so I picked her up and put her near the pond. She wasted no time to get back in the water.

Photos of the Week:

Yep, that me inside of Roses Cantina, having almost finished a quart of Margarita! I could still walk when I left 😉

If there is no picture, click on the ‘start’ triangle to see Mama Turtle. I’m not sure ‘mama’ is a proper term, she lays the eggs, covers them, then goes back to the pond with no maternal instinct. They should hatch around mid September.

Books: Remember, if I finish a book, I review and post it to http://lenoragood.blogspot.com I needed something a bit more uplifting after the last Allende book which I haven’t finished, and may never. Especially if none of you have read it and can assure me it’s not truly a downer all the way through. So, I opened my phone, and found one I’d downloaded some time ago, A Trifle Dead (Café La Femme Mystery Book 1 of 3) —by Livia Day. A lot of people are, I strongly suspect, closet readers of Cozy mysteries. I, my friends, am so far out of that closet, I don’t even know where it is anymore. This one takes place in Tasmania, and one of the supporting characters is a Scot from the Auld Sod, itself. I have to give Ms. Day credit, it’s very difficult to write believable accents, and she does a marvelous job of it. Not over done, but enough to add spice to the story, and make me homesick for a place I’ve never been. I’m about 27% of the way through the book, and it is fun. Of course, by 30% it could downhill on a runaway rollercoaster—but I don’t think so.

Earworms:

El Paso, Marty Robbins. Yes, Rose’s Cantina is real, that’s where I got a top shelf margarita—a whole 32 ounces in a quart canning jar. Fortunately it was a lot more mix and less tequila because I drank the whole thing. Oh, if you ever get to visit, the food (and drink) is (are) wonderful, but please, don’t play the song. The staff will appreciate you more.

Big Iron, Marty Robbins. Yeah, I like Marty Robbins. And I like the Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs. Shucks, if Marty sang it, I love it.

Seven Spanish Angels, Willie Nelson & Ray Charles. Two of the all-time greats, together.

Quotes on Quilting from Quiltdom:

“Sewing small pieces together gives me a peaceful heart and a quilt to wrap you with, my love.” ― Benita Skinner

“Our lives are like quilts – bits and pieces, joy and sorrow, stitched with love.” ― Unknown

“After all, a woman didn’t leave much behind in the world to show she’d been there. Even the children she bore and raised got their father’s name. But her quilts, now that was something she could pass on.” ― Sandra Dallas

The Brave Dog here. She is in getting more coffee, so I jumped up on her chair. Back to the turtle–believe me, it wasn’t even worth a sniff, let alone worrying about. Humans! But I have to admit, my human checks the walkway and driveway with her hand before she lets me walk. That’s because she does’t want my wee feets burned. Favorite walking time is early in the morning or after sunset in the evening. See, my human really does love me. Okay, she’s coming back, I’d best get this posted so she’ll think she did it before she filled her cup.